


Montana Christmas

by KatieComma



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy Smut, Jack's POV, M/M, Romance, Smut, Stuck in a cabin in a cold snap, What else is there to do?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 09:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Jack offers to look after his Uncle's Montana ranch over the holidays and drags Mac along with him.





	Montana Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nevcolleil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/gifts), [becauseimawinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseimawinchester/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Nev and becauseimawinchester!
> 
> I'm gifting this to both of you because I'm working on stuff for both of you and it wasn't done in time. 
> 
> *ahem* The Rookie Problem *ahem*
> 
> Nev: your gift was supposed to be finishing the baseball fic before Christmas. Turns out that was a bit too ambitious for my brain. :D
> 
> Becauseimawinchester: I MAY have planned a chapter just for your in the baseball fic... Unfortunately it's not posted (or even written) yet. ;)
> 
> So here! Have some feelsy smut for Christmas! Hopefully it can tide you over!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, as ever, to Lavender for letting me use your Ranchverse AU!

Jack loved the quiet of Montana. No matter where he was in the state, there was a perfect blanket of stifled sound. It wasn’t silence; there were still all the sounds and noises of nature and people, but everything was muffled in a beautiful way that made Montana feel like a planet all its own. A place away. An escape.

Which was exactly why Jack had brought Mac out to the middle of nowhere snowy Montana for their Christmas holidays. They both needed to get away. Away from cell phone service, and demands, and work, and everything but each other.

Sitting tall on his horse, Jack came over another rise, Mac following close behind, and looked down the lee side of the sloping hill. Jack was frozen solid, and couldn’t think about anything but returning to the small, warm cabin; the little ranch hand cabin that had stood empty too long. But he shook those thoughts out of his head, and his eyes followed the trail through the snow down to the fence at the edge of the property. Contessa stood there, flicking her tail back and forth, looking at the fence like it should fall down for her so she could continue on.

They’d finally found their runaway horse.

“Most stubborn horse I ever met,” Jack mumbled through the scarf covering his face. It felt hard and moulded to his face with breath, like a papermache mask.

“What?” Mac called out, as he pulled his horse up alongside Jack.

Jack shook his head, and waved his hand to say: nevermind. He was surprised his hand had moved at all from the reins. Uncle Charlie was right, Jack had been living in the warm California sun too long, he’d gotten soft. That thought in mind, he gave himself a shake to warm his muscles and made his way down toward the horse. Mac followed behind.

The snow wasn’t deep, just a dusting on the fields, but they went slow anyway.

Contessa danced around when they reached her, but not for long. Running in the snow, in the cold, all the fight had gone out of her.

They cornered her against the fence, and Jack jumped deftly from his saddle, bridle in hand, and slipped it over Contessa’s head quickly and efficiently.

Five minutes out from the barn, Mac and Jack had left their familiar banter and bickering behind. It was too cold for that nonsense. So instead of a quippy one liner once Jack had the horse wrangled, or Mac making a joke about the lengths they’d had to go, Jack simply handed Contessa’s reins to Mac, mounted up, and they started the trudge back the way they’d come.

The ride back seemed twice as long as the ride out, owing to Jack’s half frozen… well, everything. 

Once they reached the big red barn, Jack pulled his scarf down from his face. The cold stung the moist skin there.

“Go on inside and stoke the fire,” Jack instructed Mac. “I’ll take care’a this and then we’ll warm up.” Jack wanted to put heat into those words, wanted to fill them up with insinuation. But he was genuine; he just wanted to get warm again. At that moment he didn’t feel like he’d ever get his bones warm again.

Mac nodded. No argument. No quip about Jack being an old man, and that Mac should do the hard work. Nothing at all but a silent nod. Mac jumped off his horse, handed the reins over to Jack and all but ran toward the ranch hand cabin.

Jack drew all three horses inside and shut the barn doors tight behind him. Taking care with each animal to make sure they were unsaddled, brushed, and nestled into their own stalls, he double checked the heaters to make sure everyone was nice and toasty. It was Christmas Eve after all, and everybody deserved their nice own cozy bit of somewhere on Christmas Eve.

That thought drew Jack’s mind back to the cabin where Mac was waiting. The toasty, fire-warmed cabin.

Jack snuck outside, careful to open the door as little as possible and keep all the heat inside.

Early winter night had fallen while Jack was inside tending the horses, and his eyes were drawn up to the empty big house; a big, dark, black void against the snowy hillside that was still sparkling bright white in the night. That big house that normally was shining with light and warmth, was empty at the jolliest time of the year. 

Uncle Charlie had wanted, more than anything, to go meet his new grandson for Christmas. But finding help in backwoods Montana was hard, let alone over Christmas when people just wanted to be with their own families. So Jack had volunteered himself to come watch the animals while Uncle Charlie headed south. And now the big house was quiet and empty like Jack had never seen it.

Jack had been looking forward to the Christmas getaway. Mac and Jack, and no line to the outside world except the landline in the big house for emergencies. No one calling and interrupting, no urgent pressing international incidents. Just Mac and Jack and a warm little cabin in a snow filled wonderland.

Contessa had messed all that up, escaping on the coldest day so far since they’d arrived. What was it with Dalton family horses and escaping? Wild like their owners, Jack guessed.

With a grin at that thought, and one more glance up at the big empty house, his eyes wandered to the warm, orange light pouring out of the little windows of the cabin.

An extra little bounce in his step, he jogged to the cabin and slipped inside. The heat hit him like a Dalton family bear hug. He could barely breathe since his body didn’t really seem to know what to do with the warm air.

Mac was there suddenly, peeling away layers. He took Jack’s hat off, and then unwound the scarf from his face and neck. Then he unzipped the jacket and slipped it from Jack’s shoulders. Jack almost felt dizzy and suddenly found himself devoid of his outerwear. He sat down and pried the stiff boots from his feet.

The little two room cabin was perfect: One room with a bed, a small loveseat, a kitchenette, and big warm fireplace. Then a small bathroom off the back that got cold as ice even when the door was left open. But the cabin was cozy and had everything they needed. Plus the romance aspect.

Mac sat waiting for him by the fire, on the old bear skin rug, two mugs in hand.

Jack joined him, bending his knees that were stiff with cold, and tumbling down in front of the fire that started to thaw him immediately.

Mac handed Jack the mug, and Jack took a gulp, savouring the hot Irish coffee. The warmth of the drink, combined with the warmth of the liquor made him feel like a melting ice flow.

“If this ain’t the perfect Christmas Eve I don’t know what is,” Jack sighed out, scooting closer to the fire until he felt like his eyebrows were singed.

“I dunno... how about being in SoCal, in the warmth?” Mac suggested with a smile. “Or not having to chase a horse all over the state during a cold snap?”

“I feel you about Contessa,” Jack agreed. “But you don’t really mean that about being in California do you?”

Mac smiled, and that soft affection crept into his bright eyes. “No, I didn’t mean it,” he said softly. “This is great.” He tapped his mug against Jack’s, the sound hollow, and they chugged back some more of the hot coffee.

Mac scooted closer, and they leaned their backs against the loveseat, stretching their legs out and warming the soles of their feet near the fire. Mac threw an arm around Jack’s back, and the heat it provided made Jack shiver with contentment.

“You’re still so cold,” Mac said, pulling Jack into his side.

“I got you to warm me up baby,” Jack said, taking another sip that dripped down to his stomach like a lava flow.

“Now Jack Wyatt Dalton,” Mac said, “that sounds like a line you’ve probably used a hundred times before.”

Jack shook his head, feeling sober despite the liquor and Mac’s proximity. He looked up into Mac’s perfect blue eyes. “Just on you Angus,” Jack said softly.

Mac turned toward Jack, and without hesitation, put a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. They’d shared hundreds of kisses, maybe thousands even, and yet each one was new and exciting and perfect. This one tasted sweet and bitter; Irish cream and coffee. It felt urgent like a stolen first kiss, but was drawn out like a devout married one. It was all things at once, and Jack savoured every moment.

His body was warmer by the moment, from the fire and Mac’s needy tongue, and Jack put his hands around Mac’s sides and up under his shirt at the back.

Mac yelped and jumped back. “Holy shit, how are your hands still that cold?” He asked, panting.

“They ain’t really that cold,” Jack complained.

“Yeah, they really are,” Mac countered from the other side of the Grizzly bear's head. He’d toppled over the thing in his rush to get away from Jack.

“Come on,” Jack said. “Get back over here.”

“No way,” Mac laughed. “Not until you get those hands figured out. Stick them in the fire if you have to.”

“They’d warm up faster if you were over here helpin’ me,” Jack winked.

“At what cost,” Mac said, “you’re gonna give me frostbite.”

“The authentic Montana experience wouldn’t be complete without frostbite,” Jack said with a grin.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Mac slid back across the rug. 

Once he was seated next to Jack, Mac lifted the hem of his sweater, exposing the pale skin underneath; an invitation that Jack took with pleasure. Watching Mac’s eyes, he started with his fingertips, pressing them against Mac’s torso. Then his palm flat against that hot, hard stomach. Mac shuddered a breath, his eyes opened wide in shock at the touch, and Jack could feel just how cold his hands were against that blazing skin. Slowly, Jack slid his hand across the skin and up Mac’s back, causing shivers as he went.

 

Mac grabbed at the back of Jack’s neck again and pulled him into a kiss. This time the kiss was all urgency, needing, wanting, desperation, hunger. Jack lapped it up, growling into Mac’s mouth.

Jack’s second hand found skin while their lips were joined; Mac’s body tightened to stillness and he made a pained sound against Jack’s mouth.

“Such a baby,” Jack said when he pulled his mouth back just enough to get a jab in. “It’s just a little bit’a cold.”

“I’ll go outside and stick my hands in the snow tomorrow, and then come back in and do this to you,” Mac snarked back. “How about that?”

“Any excuse to get your hands all over me Angus,” Jack said with a smile before he returned his mouth to Mac’s.

Mac pushed back against Jack, toppling them over in front of the fireplace and breaking their lips apart. He crawled between Jack’s legs and settled there, pressing their bodies together. Jack’s body was finally warming up, his hands still up against hot skin, the rest of him pressed against a warm body covered in warm clothes in front of a roaring fire.

Jack was finding it hard to remember a better night. There was no substitute for coming in out of the cold to someone, and some place, warm. It just wasn’t the same in California, or even Texas. Knowing the cold was pressing in on all sides, and taking warmth and comfort from the person you loved, there wasn’t anything better in the whole world.

Jack’s hands were hugging Mac tight against him, knees tented on either side of his hips, and the softness and friction and pleasure and heat was overwhelming. But Jack didn’t mind being overwhelmed, so he gave in to it and focused on the glowing warmth that was finally spreading into his fingers, and the taste of Irish Cream on Mac’s tongue.

Finally Jack slid his hands upward, looking to take off Mac’s shirt.

Mac sat up suddenly, hands planted on either side of Jack, pushing away from the hug.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, already missing Mac’s closeness. Though the angle he was leaning at put pressure in another wonderful place that was beginning to become an unbearable distraction.

“I am not having sex on a dead animal,” Mac said matter-of-factly.

Jack cocked his head to the side and looked down by their feet where the giant Grizzly skull poked up inside it’s fur.

“Oh come on,” Jack said with a smile. “He’s been dead for years, it’s not gonna bug him none.”

Mac looked absolutely unimpressed, and pressed back further, but Jack kept his hands firmly planted and didn’t let him up.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” Mac said. “It’s a dead animal. It’s weird. And the bed is _right_ there.” He nodded his head to the bed that was literally feet away.

“But the fire’s here,” Jack whined, shooting a glance at the flames licking the edge of a log.

Mac’s voice got husky, and full of excitement. “I promise I’ll keep you warm,” he said, letting his body drop back onto Jack’s and licking at the skin just under Jack’s jaw.

The sudden intense sensation put Jack’s guard down and before he knew it, Mac was out of his grip and a few feet away on the bed.

“I don’t appreciate bein’ tricked,” Jack said with a growl as he got up off the floor. “Especially bein’ tricked outta something I was really enjoying.” As Jack stood up he reluctantly unbuttoned and removed the flannel shirt he wore, before pulling the undershirt over his head and tossing them into a pile by the couch.

“And I don’t appreciate dead animals,” Mac replied. “Now hurry up, I’m getting cold.”

“Told you!” Jack said as he let the rest of his clothes drop to the floor.

Mac lay on top of the blankets, still fully clothed, making no move to remove any of them.

Jack came around the side of the bed, and Mac followed his movements with icy eyes as he approached. Jack undid his belt, undid the button and zipper, and all but ripped the jeans from Mac’s body he pulled them off so fast. The shirt he did rip, so excited to get the buttons undone that he caused a few to tear away and plink to the floor.

They crawled under the covers, and immediately pressed themselves together. The bed was freezing, the sheets having been tucked tightly around a cold mattress all day.

“This was… a terrible… idea,” Jack complained, words peppered between kisses.

“Don’t worry,” Mac panted. “You’ll be… warm… in no… time.”

They continued their kisses, laying on their sides, arms and legs tangled together, the places they met staying warm but the rest of them cooling as their heat spread to the sheets.

Jack’s hand slipped up into Mac’s hair, loving the silky feel of it under his fingers. Mac’s hands wandered elsewhere, all over, gripping bits of muscle, pulling Jack’s thigh up over his hip.

Their kisses devolved into a mess, neither of them putting much thought into anything as the sweat between their bodies started to become slick, helping them slide against each other.

Jack didn’t even remember Mac leaning over toward the nightstand when a cold little bottle was shoved into his hand. The feelings he wanted to express suddenly went beyond bodily impulses, and he backed away from the kiss between them, pressing his forehead against Mac’s. He was huffing out breaths that, in the little corner away from the fire, were a bit misty in the cool air.

Before he could speak, he let out the needy whine that had built in his chest, held there by their mouths against each other. Then with a swift motion he rolled over on top of Mac.

The pressure of gravity forcing their bodies together caused a spike of pleasure between them, and Mac gripped Jack’s shoulders almost too tight, pulling him even closer and panting and moaning right into Jack’s ear, breath hot.

Jack nosed at Mac’s ear before he spoke. He was feeling sentimental, and the words came out soft and quivering. “Every time, it’s like the first time,” Jack whispered, trying not to let out the sob that was tightening his chest. “Damnit I love you so much Angus.”

At the use of his first name, Mac wrapped himself tightly around Jack, arms and legs enclosing him completely. He didn’t expect Mac to say the “l” word. Mac didn’t use it often, not like Jack did. And that was alright. Some people wanted to keep it special, and some people wanted to shout it from the rooftops everyday. It was ok that they were different people, opposites almost, it was what made them good together. Perfect.

“Thank you,” Mac said softly into Jack’s ear.

Jack leaned up on his elbows with a smile. “For what?”

“Bringing me here,” Mac replied, his face soft and vulnerable, like it so rarely was, even when they were alone together. “It’s perfect.”

Jack kissed at Mac’s birthmark just under his jaw, and then dragged his lips down neck and collarbone and down and down until he was under the warming sheets, planting kisses on hipbones. Hipbones were the closest he came to using his mouth where Mac wanted him to. But Jack knew Mac well enough to know that neither of them were going to last long as it was. Add spit and lips and pressure to that and Mac wouldn’t make it to the main event.

Slicked fingers slipped inside and coaxed small pleasured sounds out of Mac’s throat as his body tightened with each pass of Jack’s fingertips. They’d been pretty active the last few days, cooped up in the cabin with the occasional trip to the barn to check on the animals, and nothing else to do; So Mac didn’t need much in the way of teasing and coaxing before he was ready to go.

Jack sloppily wiped his messy hand on the sheets, and crawled back up over Mac until they were face to face.

There was no begging, no asking, no words at all. Just trust and love in those bright blue eyes as they looked up at Jack. Those eyes said everything: I’m ready when you are. That was their whole relationship. In it together, to the end, no matter what.

Jack kept their eyes locked together as he gently, slowly, pushed his hips forward. The pleasure coursing through him was almost painful until he didn’t think there was any more pleasure to be had, but his hips still had space to move, so he continued. Through that first long slow push, Mac let out one shaky breath that lasted the entire way, but kept his eyes open, focused on Jack’s.

Jack stopped there, their bodies joined, taking a deep breath and hoping he could hold off his climax.

Mac took Jack’s face into his hands and pulled him down for a kiss. With their lips joined, Jack slid his hips backward, and forward again, starting the slow rythym that was still going to have him coming too quickly. When his hips met Mac’s skin again, Mac ripped his lips away and let out a sound into the air that was half scream and half groan. His fingers dug tighter into Jack’s shoulders.

At the next gentle thrust, Mac’s body shuddered and closed tight all around Jack. Mac was silent, the way he always was when he came. Holding in everything like he could keep it to remember later. Even his breath.

Normally Jack would tell Mac to breathe again, because without the reminder Mac would sometimes wait too long to take fresh air back into his body. But Jack was unable to this time, thrown over the edge by the tightening of Mac’s body around him. Jack gathered Mac up, arms sliding under his back and holding them impossibly tight together, face tucked into Mac’s neck as Jack buried himself so completely in the man he loved.

“Angus,” Jack called out with a grunted groan when the peak of his pleasure hit, making him feel electric all over.

When he came back to himself, Jack put his mouth to Mac’s ear and loosened his grip and the pressure on his lover’s chest. “Just breathe baby,” Jack coaxed. “Deep breaths.”

Mac choked in some air, and shuddered it back our a few times before his breathing returned to normal.

“You good?” Jack asked, still unable to move his overstimulated body.

“Beyond good,” Mac said, and suddenly a belly laugh shook up from deep inside and he wrapped his loose, lanky arms around Jack’s neck and let the laughter spill into Jack’s ear.

Jack’s arms were still wrapped under Mac and he pulled him close again, rocking them back and forth on the squeaky old bed and they laughed together.

Once their hysteria had petered out, they lay next to each other under the warmed blankets and cuddled close. Unwilling to crawl out from the covers and clean up because of the cold outside their little bubble of warmth, they just stayed in bed and feel asleep pressed against each other.

 

 

Jack was cozy. And happy. And dreaming a really good dream: heading down the California coastline, driving Travis Long’s race car, eating up the miles. Mac was sitting in the passenger seat, leaned back, eyes closed, relaxed. The sun was slowly making it’s way to the horizon, and beating in on them through the driver’s side window. The sun warmed Jack to the core.

Shocking white cold shot up through his side. Jack’s eyes snapped open, suddenly and completely roused from his deep sleep. He felt like his skin was being pressed against cold metal that had been left outside in a snow storm. Instead, Angus MacGyver was straddling Jack’s hips and pressing cold hands against his naked body. Moving his nimble fingers around to chill every piece of skin he could find.

Once Jack’s wits were about him, he wrestled Mac over onto his back and pinned his hands above his head where they couldn’t do any further damage.

“What in the sam hill was that all about?” Jack roared, frustrated that his beautiful dream had been broken and his warm comfortable sleep interrupted.

Mac smiled, wry and mischievous up from the mattress. “I warned you I was gonna do it,” he said. “I thought a Delta was always prepared.”

Jack sighed and hung his head down against Mac’s naked chest. “That’s the Boy Scouts.”

“Sue me,” Mac said, “so what is the Delta’s motto then? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”  
“Don’t have one. Delt’s are too tough for mottos,” Jack replied, heart rate still slowing from the cold shock. Mac’s hands were still cold, where Jack held them tight against the pillows. Jack looked down between them and found Mac still fully naked. “How did you get your hands so damn cold while you’re still buck naked? The rest of you ain’t cold at all.”

Mac wiggled his fingers around, planted his feet and pushed his hips up against Jack’s.

Just that little bit of enticement and Jack was fired up. Before long their bodies were tangled together in the most intimate way, and Jack forgot entirely that he’d even asked a question and hadn’t gotten an answer.

Exhausted, despite having just woken up, Jack lay sprawled across Mac’s sweaty body, a warm arm around him.

Jack was starting to fall back asleep, listening to Mac’s heartbeat and the slow rhythm of his breathing, when a rumble passed through Mac’s chest as he spoke, but Jack didn’t hear the words.

“Wha’s’at?” Jack asked, half asleep and drooling against Mac’s chest.

“I said: Merry Christmas Jack,” Mac repeated himself.

Jack started awake and sat up on an elbow, meeting Mac’s eyes. “That’s right. It’s Christmas today isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” Mac answered.

“Well then,” Jack rolled out of bed. Mac whined and tried to hold onto his arm and pull him back down, but Jack’s strength prevailed. “Up, up, up.”

“What’s the rush?” Mac asked. “We don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Guess you should’a let me sleep in,” Jack snarked, stepping into the freezing cold bathroom and quickly wiping his body up with the luke warm water from the tap. “It’s Christmas morning! Come on! Get up.”

Mac growled, and pulled the blankets up over his head.

Jack dressed and had the kitchen smelling like a Waffle House in no time; bacon, pancakes, eggs, and hash browns all baked and fried and cooked, filling the cabin with more warmth and the comforting wonderful smell of breakfast. He stoked up the fire until it was blazing out heat, and hoped it would coax Mac out from the soft warm bed.

While he waited for Mac to finally get up, Jack retrieved the small wrapped parcel from his pack. The one he’d carted all the way to Montana so carefully, checking and double checking his pack constantly on the trip to make sure that he hadn’t lost it somehow. It was precious to him, just like Mac, and he was worried somehow that he’d lose it along the way, just like he worried about Mac. But Jack found the little parcel tucked neatly away just where he’d left it, and put it out on the small little dining table next to Mac’s plate.

Mac finally stumbled to the bathroom, complaining the entire time about the cold while he cleaned himself up.

“You really ain’t fit for the cold,” Jack answered.

“Listen,” Mac replied as he came back into the main room and dressed. “Clean up for you is a lot less cold water in a lot less places. I was a mess everywhere.” Mac waved his hands around his chest and... lower.

“Well you know, if it’s too much of a mess for you, we can avoid it altogether in the future,” Jack said with a grin, turning back to the stove to flip the most recent pair of pancakes.

He heard Mac coming up behind him, creaking the floorboards, and Jack let out a pleased “mmmm” when Mac’s arms circled his body and pulled them together.

“Nothing could keep me away from you,” Mac said, his chin resting on Jack’s shoulder. “Not even a little cold weather.”

Jack turned his head to sneak an awkward kiss. When he returned his attention to the stovetop, Mac didn’t retreat, but kept himself wrapped around Jack, comfortable and relaxed, until Jack pushed him away so he could step back and get into the oven.

Once everything was dished up and ready for eating, they sat down at the table together.

“What’s this?” Mac asked, picking up the small parcel addressed to him.

“It’s a grenade,” Jack dead-panned. “What does it look like, genius? It’s your Christmas present.”

Mac smiled, and ran his deft, beautiful fingers over the creases in the jolly wrapping paper. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” Mac said, eyes only for the little gift. “We didn’t agree to that or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Jack said, “but it’s nothin’. Just a little somethin’ for my baby.”

“Yeah, I got you something too,” Mac hopped up from the table and ran to his bags in the corner. He returned with a small package, and handed it over; square, the perfect size for Jack’s palm. Jack immediately put the box up to his ear and shook it.

“That’s not gonna get you very far,” Mac laughed.

“Breakfast first, or presents first?” Jack narrowed his eyes at Mac.

In unison they answered: “Presents.” And before they could even say go, each of them were ripping wrapping from the small gifts.

Jack’s heart was fluttering in his chest with each piece of paper that Mac tore away. He was interested in what Mac had got him, of course, but more than anything he wanted to be ready when Mac opened that little box, because Jack had to get down on his knee right away. Dalton’s proposed traditionally, even if what they were proposing was less than traditional. He was sure his pops never thought Jack would be looking to marry someone named Angus.

But opening the present he’d been given stopped Jack’s plans in their tracks. He hadn’t been paying attention as he’d torn the wrapping away, but he looked down to find he’d gotten through it all and there was a ring box sitting in his hand. Navy blue and velvety, it felt heavy in his hand. Heavier than it had when he hadn’t known what it was.

Jack looked up to find Mac looking back at him, holding a similar box that was maroon velvet, their eyes both wide with shock.

“Count of three?” Mac smiled, but his voice was hoarse with emotion.

Jack just nodded. No way he trusted his vocal cords not to fail him.

Mac counted it down, too slow for Jack’s liking. “1, 2, 3.” The creaking sound of both boxes opening at the same time filled the air. The only other sounds were the cold howling wind outside and the crackling fire.

Jack stared into the box at the ring that stuck up from its little pillow. It was black, with little bands of gold running around each side. It was the most beautiful thing Jack had ever seen in his life. He lifted his eyes and found Mac watching him, tears spilling from icy blue eyes. Mac didn’t cry. Mac never cried.

Jack popped the ring box closed, clutched it tight like the precious thing that it was, and rushed around the table, dropping to both knees in front of Mac.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, turning Mac toward him and slipping between his knees. He gripped one of Mac’s thighs comfortingly, but his other hand was full of ring box that he refused to put down, so he just rested his fist on the other thigh. He looked up into Mac’s face, cheeks wet. “Don’t cry,” Jack pleaded. “You’re not supposed to cry. Crying’s a bad sign!”

Mac just shook his head and looked back down into the maroon box in his hand. Then he started laughing. “Come here you big idiot!” He said, grabbing Jack’s arms and pulling him up into a hug. They stayed like that for a long time, holding each other tight, ring boxes pressed into each other’s backs because they just wouldn’t let them go.

Jack suddenly felt the need to clarify. Despite the obviously heavy emotion, he wondered if one or both of them hadn’t misunderstood something.

“It’s not just any ring you know,” Jack said against Mac’s neck. “It sorta requires an answer.”

“Mine too,” Mac replied. “So, isn’t that kind of an answer in and of itself?”

Jack pushed back a little to see Mac’s face lit up with that mischievous smile again. “I guess it is,” Jack admitted before he nuzzled softly against Mac’s face as he moved in and kissed him gently; a chaste kiss just lips brushing lips.

They held their ring boxes out to each other, and slipped the rings on each other’s fingers. Both fit perfectly.

“This is really cool,” Mac admired the new ring on his left hand. Bright grey, it almost sparkled in the light. “What is it?”

When Jack had found it, wandering through a market in Tokyo, he’d known it was for Mac and had bought it immediately. “It’s from a meteorite,” Jack said. “Seemed like something you’d like.”

“It’s perfect,” Mac said again, for the second time in two days, and Jack’s heart raced.

Jack looked down at the perfect little circle of black and gold on his finger, cold against his skin, but a welcome coolness. A reminder that he could feel anytime anywhere.

Mac stood, and dragged Jack with him back towards the bed. They wrapped each other up in their arms and kissed until they were breathless.

“What do you think?” Mac asked, when they broke apart to crawl onto the bed. “Jack MacGyver? It’s got a good ring to it right?”

“I dunno,” Jack said, crawling toward Mac across the mattress. “What about Angus Dalton.” Jack made a face immediately that mirrored the grimace on Mac’s. “Yeah, no way,” Jack admitted.

“Hyphenated?” Mac asked.

“Hyphenated,” Jack confirmed as he tackled Mac into the pillows.

Just then the sound of the barn latch breaking free, and the barn door swinging open with a crack in the wind, echoed across the yard. A horse whinnied against the cold Montana gusts and they heard hoofbeats pound across the ground just outside their door.

Mac and Jack turned their heads toward the sound and both yelled at the same time: “Contessa!” And “Come on!”

The boys sighed. Jack gave Mac a quick peck on the cheek, and they got up to dress for the weather and hunt down a horse.


End file.
